


we'll stop the clock together

by tmylm



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Exes, F/F, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21686881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmylm/pseuds/tmylm
Summary: I made anangsty gif setand decided to write a lil thing to go along with it; the text on the gif set summarizes it pretty well. Angst and (blink and you'll miss it) smut warnings ahead.(Title: Vegas Skies by The Cab)
Relationships: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 26
Kudos: 181





	we'll stop the clock together

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Theresa for naming all of the OCs!

These streets are filled with ghosts. They have been for the better part of a year now, in fact. Each corner, even the most mundane, boring of places, they’re filled with memories. Memories that Chloe loves to relive, wishes she could do so with the same fondness she once upon a time did. Except that feeling lasts only mere seconds now, before realization hits her, before she is pulled back to the present, and made aware of that sinking feeling of loss she has felt ever since they said their goodbyes. And suddenly, those memories… They’re not so fond anymore.

It is not uncommon for Chloe to peer up from the ground—mostly just to make sure she isn’t about to walk into someone among the crowded New York streets, littered with fast-footed, busy people hurrying toward their jobs, their homes, their _families_ —and to see, for the briefest of moments, the flash of shoulder-length, mousy hair, the glimmer of piercing blue eyes, and to lose herself, if only for a second, in the feeling that nothing has changed. That her gaze is landing on her girlfriend, the person Chloe would’ve uprooted her entire life for if she could’ve.

Of course, it’s always just a trick of the light, a cruel figment of her imagination, there as a constant reminder of what she once had, of what she so painfully, so explicitly doesn’t have anymore. Chloe assumes the same is happening now, as her tired eyes land on the sight of a mousy brunette walking toward her. Her heart stops for the briefest of moments, the same way it always does, before Chloe is glancing back down toward her feet, willing the ghost of years passed to fade away.

But it doesn’t.

“Chloe?”

Chloe would know that voice anywhere. The voice that once filled her stomach with butterflies, that caused her heart to ache with the most overwhelming feeling of love. The butterflies are there now as Chloe stops dead in her tracks, heart aching, but for quite the opposite reason, and Chloe doesn’t know how to process it.

“Chlo, hey. It’s me…”

Finally, blue eyes drift upward to be met with the sight that Chloe has imagined so many times before. Her insides feel as though they are melting as she attempts to blink away what she assumes is all in her imagination, only to find that it’s real. It’s so very real, and it’s standing right there in front of her, wide eyes both scared and expectant as they seem to drink her in.

“Beca?” Chloe’s teeth sink gently into her bottom lip, the taste of her gloss bitter against her tongue. In spite of herself, the corners of her lips tug upward to display the smallest, slightest of smiles, and Chloe sees that Beca is mirroring her expression. “What are you doing here?”

“Work,” Beca responds somewhat robotically, almost as if she is just now realizing what’s going on. Maybe she’d thought this was all in her head before now, too. But Chloe is standing in front of her, she’s just as real, just as present as Beca is, and it’s obvious that while both have imagined this meeting countless times before, neither has ever figured out what they’d do, what they’d say, if it ever actually happened. “Just for a few days,” Beca adds quickly, a familiarly awkward tone lacing her voice.

All Chloe does at first is nod, attempting to hide the pain behind her eyes. “You’re working over Thanksgiving?” She finally asks, head tilting slightly as she eyes the woman before her. Beca is wearing headphones—in the age of AirPods, big, chunky headphones are so very Beca Mitchell, a sight that, if the circumstances were different, might make Chloe smile, but as it is, it just causes her heart to hurt. But Chloe tries hard not to let it show, despite knowing how badly she is failing.

“Yeah, my schedule kind of sucks,” Beca frowns wryly, though her lip curls into a half smile as her gaze finds its way to Chloe’s again. “Chinese takeout for one this year.”

Chloe should leave. She should nod her head, tell Beca she hopes that she’s doing well, and she should leave. And she does, she nods her head, but her words fall from her lips without thought nor prior warning, and Chloe can’t bring herself to regret them.

“I’m hosting this year,” Chloe explains, sucking in the inside of her cheek. “There’s gonna be a ton of food, and it’s just me and a couple friends from work. You could join us… You know, if you want to.”

Beca begins to shake her head, or at least Chloe thinks she does. She stops herself, though, evidently taking a moment to consider her options. A gloved hand rises to sweep across the back of her neck, one of Beca’s awkward quirks that Chloe knows so well, and her gaze lifts from the ground, landing so easily on Chloe’s face, so familiarly. That draw between them, that pull, it’s still there. But Chloe tries to ignore it, because what good is it going to do now? She simply looks at Beca, waits for a response. She waits much more hopefully than she would like to.

“I, uh…” Beca pauses to lick over her lips, shoulder shrugging gently. “I don’t want to impose.”

“No imposition,” Chloe assures her almost a little too readily. “It’s fine,” she presses, “No one likes to spend the holidays alone. You should come, Bec.”

A moment’s silence follows. It is the shortest, briefest moment, but it hangs in the air around them far too thickly, feels like it lasts much, much longer, and Chloe isn’t sure whether to break it or not. She shouldn’t be so prepared to convince Beca—their current situation was Beca’s idea, after all—but she is. However, it seems she doesn’t need to, because soon she sees Beca nodding her head, the small smile gracing her lips an appreciative one.

“Yeah,” Beca finally decides. “Yeah, okay.”

They still have one another’s numbers—they’ve been broken up less than a year—so depart with the promise that Chloe will shoot Beca a text to let her know what time to show, and Chloe’s heart aches as they share an awkward half-hug, with Beca hurrying on her way.

It is not until she walks away, until she pulls herself together enough, that she really considers their interaction. She wonders silently, as she turns to glance over her shoulder at the heartbreaking sight of her ex-girlfriend disappearing into the distance, why Beca hadn’t told her she was going to be in the city. Again, they have each other’s numbers…

Chloe’s heart sinks toward her stomach, and she hates the familiarity.

* * *

“Chloe, come on,” Evan frowns—Chloe isn’t looking at him, she is busy rearranging the place settings for about the thousandth time, but she can _tell_ he’s frowning. She can hear it in the tone of his voice, feel it in the way he gently clutches at her arm. “Everything looks fine. Great, even.”

Whether she is actually listening to him or not, Chloe finally releases a small sigh, straightening up to gaze scrutinizingly at the table.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself here. You know you can still cancel on her, right?”

Chloe’s lips purse slightly, long fingers rising to neaten up her already incredibly neat, perfectly styled red hair. “I’m not cancelling on anyone,” she states simply, arms folding across her middle. Chloe turns to look at her friend almost incredulously, and Evan responds with a soft sigh of his own, followed by a short nod of his head.

Evan has been a rock for her throughout these past few months, he really has. He’s seen Chloe at her worst, picked her up from the broken pile she’d melted into on the bathroom floor on numerous occasions, so it’s only natural that he’s worried. All of her friends are, in fact. Some have expressed their disdain toward Chloe’s ex-girlfriend, their disapproval of the last minute addition to their small Thanksgiving group. But everybody knows how much Beca means to Chloe, and they know they’re not going to win this one.

“Maybe she’s too close to Taylor there,” Chloe muses quietly, leaning across the table to rearrange the name labels once more. She doesn’t have the time, though, not before a small knock sounds from the door, and Chloe freezes up.

Taylor and Rob wouldn’t knock, and they’re the only two of their initial group of five not here yet.

“Want me to get it?” Evan questions, evidently noting the slight look of fear that seems to gloss over Chloe’s eyes.

Chloe simply shakes her head, though offers him an appreciative look, before side-stepping around him to head for the door.

It’s weird to open the door—the door to the home Chloe once upon a time shared with Beca—to find Beca standing on the doorstep, waiting to be invited inside. She stands with a bottle of wine, and Chloe looks at it just long enough to take note of the fact that it’s her favorite kind, before her gaze is drifting back up toward Beca. Beca is wearing a skirt and has paired it with a black blouse. It is a somewhat dressy look for Beca Mitchell, but it’s fitting for the occasion, Chloe thinks as she stands in her floral blue Thanksgiving dress, soft bangs held back with a matching blue bow.

“Hey,” Chloe finally greets, body relaxing some. Her heart is still racing, still hammering hard inside of her chest, but it’s hard for her to be afraid of Beca. It’s hard for her to think anything negative when it comes to Beca, in fact, even given their current situation, the fact that they’re literally broken up.

Beca responds with a weak smile, and Chloe steps aside to allow her in.

It might be a good thing that Taylor hasn’t arrived yet, because she is by far Chloe’s most protective friend. Taylor is the one most likely to say something to Beca, something to make her feel uncomfortable. Luckily, both Evan and Austin are much more understanding, and they greet Beca pleasantly. It feels a little forced, but Chloe is grateful, all the same. Even Taylor surprises her once she and Rob eventually show. She doesn’t really have anything nice to say to Beca, but she doesn’t say anything negative, either. She greets her somewhat coldly, then proceeds to ignore her, for the most part, and that’s fine by Chloe. She’d rather that than the alternative.

Truth be told, Beca didn’t do anything wrong. Neither did Chloe. No, their breakup hadn’t been altogether mutual, but it had been in everyone’s best interests. It had been Beca’s attempt to shield Chloe from unnecessary pain. Chloe can see it that way now, even if her friends can’t.

Understandably, dinner is a little awkward. Beca doesn’t talk much—not so unusual. In fact, neither does Chloe—a little more unusual, but given the situation, it makes sense. Evan and Austin help to keep the atmosphere light, though. When it comes to expressing the things they’re grateful for, Chloe includes the collective group, and while she doesn’t refer to anybody by name, her gaze does fall on Beca a moment too long, and she sees the way Beca is staring back, too. Beca mumbles something about how she’s grateful for the opportunities she has been afforded, and actively avoids eye contact with Chloe.

Chloe thinks that, after dinner, maybe Beca will leave. A part of her wants her to, if only because this is more difficult than she’d anticipated. Being with Beca, with a group of people they used to hang out with together, in the home they used to call _their_ home, it’s hard. A larger part of her, however, hopes that she doesn’t. It has been months since they’ve spoken, even longer since they’ve seen each other, and Chloe isn’t ready for Beca to leave yet. She isn’t ready for another year of radio silence, so when Beca rises from her seat along with everybody else, Chloe’s heart stops for a moment.

Austin has begun to clear the table, while Evan, Taylor and Rob talk among themselves, and Beca starts toward the living room door.

“You’re leaving?” Chloe questions in something akin to panic, volume low. She doesn’t want her friends to stare, doesn’t want them to see her pathetically begging Beca not to leave. Fortunately, though, Beca shakes her head, and Chloe doesn’t have to.

(It’s sad, how willing she would’ve been to do so.)

“No, I just have to use the bathroom,” Beca explains, and Chloe feels a sense of relief wash over her. It is replaced by a feeling of sadness when she almost gives Beca directions, only to stop herself upon remembering that Beca knows exactly where she’s going—they literally picked out this house together, it used to be Beca’s, too.

Chloe watches as Beca walks toward the stairs, and she knows it’s weird that she doesn’t just leave, doesn’t go help Austin with clearing away the plates and leftover food. She finds that she’s glad she doesn’t, though, because just as Chloe is about to turn away, Beca pauses somewhere close to the top of the stairs. It is almost in slow motion, the way she half twists her body, gaze meeting Chloe’s. Whether it’s an invitation of some kind or not, Chloe doesn’t know, but she hesitates for only the briefest of moments before deciding to consider it one, and Beca doesn’t walk on—not until Chloe has begun to follow her up the stairs.

“Is everything okay?” Chloe asks in a soft voice, glad for the small window of privacy. She loves her friends, she’s grateful to have been able to spend the day with them, but it’s hard for her to not become all consumed by Beca Mitchell, not when she’s standing right there, dangerously close to their bedroom.

 _Her_ bedroom. Not theirs. It used to be theirs, though, and Chloe can’t shake the thought from her mind as Beca turns to face her.

Chloe can count on one hand the amount of times she has seen Beca cry over the years she has known her. And even then, Beca has always insisted she’s fine, that it’s allergies, and Chloe has always humored her. It’s not like there are tears freely rolling down her cheeks now, but Beca’s blue eyes are glazed over with a sheen of shiny liquid. It makes the color pop, makes Chloe’s heart ache the same way it had when she’d run into her in the street only two days ago.

“Bec, what is it?” Chloe asks in that same soft voice. Instinctively, she takes a step closer, and while Beca looks like she might edge backward, she doesn’t. She does lift her arms to wrap around her middle, almost like she’s trying to hold herself protectively. Beca’s gaze drifts slightly off to the side, slightly away from Chloe’s piercing stare. Her head shakes gently, and Chloe chooses not to push. If Beca has something to say, she’ll say it. Or at least Chloe hopes she will.

“I miss you,” the smallest voice finally mumbles. Had Chloe not seen the look in her watery eyes, the shaky sound to her voice would give Beca’s emotions away.

Chloe doesn’t know how to respond. She knows how she _wants_ to respond; she wants to tell Beca she misses her, too. Maybe even yell a little bit, tell her that it’s her fault they even have to miss each other. But she can’t. Any resentment she may have felt before—and there has definitely been some amount of resentment there—seems to dissolve right then and there as she takes in the broken image of the woman standing before her.

The sleeves of Beca’s blouse are long enough that she can pull one over her fingers, lifting it to wipe beneath her eyes. She still isn’t looking at Chloe, and Chloe still isn’t about to point out the fact that she’s crying. Not that there’s any shame in doing so; Chloe has always been of the belief that it’s healthy to cry, to allow your emotions an escape, but she and Beca differ in that way. Beca views her own tears as a weakness, Chloe knows that, so she doesn’t point it out. She doesn’t step forward and pull her into her arms, no matter how much she might like to. Instead, she just stands, yearns for something more, but what can she do?

“I’m not working this week,” Beca continues, voice still cracked, still somewhat choked up.

Chloe’s auburn brows furrow as she stares, head tilting to the side. “Then why—”

“I wanted to see you.” Beca cuts in before Chloe can even finish her question. Inexplicably, she releases a small laugh, one that doesn’t quite match the teary expression on her face, and Chloe just continues to watch her in confusion. “It’s pathetic, I know. Pretending like I had some important reason for being here. And I do. I do,” Beca nods, sucking in her bottom lip between her teeth. “But it’s not work, Chlo. It’s you.”

Slowly, almost dumbly, Chloe shakes her head, as if she doesn’t understand. Because she doesn’t—again, this had been Beca’s idea, this breakup. Chloe doesn’t understand what she’s saying. “But you said...”

“I know,” Beca nods, “I know, I said I was working. My manager actually told me kind of last minute that I didn’t have to work Thanksgiving, and she said why not fly home and surprise my parents. So I booked a flight. But not to them,” Beca shakes her head this time, and despite the fact that she seems to be fighting herself to keep looking the other way, her watery gaze moves toward Chloe. “I wanted to be with you.”

Chloe has pictured this many times. She has longed for it so desperately, in fact, that it has been the reason behind a few of the times Evan has had to pick her up from a sobbing heap on the floor. But now that it’s happening, now that Beca is standing before her, saying things Chloe has longed to hear, she doesn’t know what to say. Or at least, she doesn’t think she does, anyway.

“I know, it’s stupid,” Beca begins, “It’s—”

“I never stopped wanting to be with you.”

Chloe barely recognizes the sound of her own voice. There is a quiver to it, a distinct sadness lacing it. Chloe has never been afraid to cry, never been afraid of her own emotions, but she finds that she is holding back tears now. Apparently, Beca notices them, too.

“I’m sorry,” Beca says quietly, hand rising to wipe beneath her streaming eyes again. “I know I shouldn’t have come. This isn’t fair to you.”

“No,” Chloe shakes her head, “No, you’re right, it’s not fair. None of this is fair.” Despite her words, despite her conviction, she doesn’t sound angry. Chloe is not angry, not anymore. If anything, she’s just sad, and a part of her, an overwhelming part of her, is relieved. It is not a feeling she can properly explain, not given the circumstances.

“I’m so sorry, Chloe.” Beca’s words are so quiet, yet so sincere. There are slow tears rolling silently down her pale cheeks now, and she doesn’t seem to have the energy to wipe them away anymore. It’s not often that Beca will open up, not really, but apparently right now is an exception. “I never wanted this, you know? I know how much I insisted that you stay here, but that’s only because I watched all of this with my parents. I saw my dad follow my mom wherever she wanted to go, and I watched them start to resent each other. I never wanted that for us. I never wanted you to give up everything to follow me, just to resent me someday.”

“I would never…” Chloe begins, head shaking gently. She has to pause for a moment, just to even out her voice. “I would never resent you, Beca.”

“Yeah,” Beca nods, voice growing small again. “You resent me now, though, huh?”

Chloe hadn’t realized how stationary she’d been standing, how frozen to the spot she’d been, not until her feet begin to carry her forward, not until she is reaching out slender fingers to wrap gently around Beca’s arms. Beca doesn’t stiffen up, she doesn’t resist. Instead, she allows Chloe to pull her in, allows her to wrap her tightly, safely in her arms, and Chloe’s heart crumbles as she hears the sound of quiet sobs, muffled by the fabric of her dress.

For a moment, they stand. They just stand, Chloe’s arms protectively wrapped around Beca, Beca crying into Chloe’s chest. They stand until the sounds of Beca’s quiet sobs begin to slow, begin to quieten further, until eventually Beca begins to pull back. Not far enough that she’s trying to break from Chloe’s hold, though. Just enough that she can tilt her face to look up at her, for Chloe’s teary eyes to meet Beca’s.

There is a mixture of salty tears, of quiet yet urgent breaths as Beca’s fists release the hold Chloe didn’t even realize they had on her dress, for her palms to delicately cup at Chloe’s tear-soaked cheeks. Their gazes lock for only a moment before Beca is straightening up to press her lips against Chloe’s, and Chloe accepts the kiss willingly, her own glossed lips pressing back harshly against Beca’s.

They have guests—Chloe has guests—but they leave her mind entirely as Beca’s hands slide from her cheeks and down toward her neck, arms wrapping around her almost urgently. Chloe’s hold releases until she can drop her hands to Beca’s slender waist, grabbing gently at the fabric of her blouse.

And then they’re guiding each other. It isn’t just one dominating the other, they’re both guiding one another toward the bedroom, entirely blindly. Chloe releases one hand to fumble for the door handle, twisting and pushing it open with Beca’s back up against the hard wood.

It might not be the right time for sex, not when they’re both evidently so emotional, but Chloe doesn’t know how to stop, and it seems that Beca doesn’t, either. Beca’s arms tighten as they wrap around Chloe’s neck, and she pulls their bodies closer, making sure to tug Chloe over toward the bed. Their lips are still pressing against one another’s, their kisses messy and urgent as Beca continues backward, the edge of the mattress hitting the backs of her legs.

If there was a top and bottom to their relationship—their past relationship—decidedly, the top would be Chloe. But Beca is in charge now, that much is made obvious by the way she lowers onto the bed, arms falling from around Chloe’s neck to ghost her hands urgently down Chloe’s body. Their lips finally part, and Chloe finds that she is breathing much harder as she looks down at Beca seated on the edge of the mattress, fingers reaching for the hem of her dress. They begin to slide upward, underneath the fabric, and as Chloe’s stomach becomes more and more exposed, Beca leans in to press her lips to the soft skin on display, goosebumps rising beneath her touch.

Chloe doesn’t have the time to think, not really. One minute, she is standing beside the bed, watching as Beca’s lips roam over her skin. Then, she is laying on the soft mattress they once upon a time shared, damp panties tossed aside as her ex-girlfriend settles between her spread legs, desperate kisses moving upward against her inner thigh.

Eventually, Chloe’s fingers are winding through mousy locks, the release she didn’t realize she’d needed washing over her body as it writhes on the bed beneath Beca’s touch, Beca’s pointed tongue buried deeply inside of her. The grasp she has on Beca’s hair tightens the closer she carries her toward her orgasm, with Chloe suddenly a breathless, panting, moaning mess beneath her. It is not just because she hasn’t slept with anybody since Beca, it’s because this is _Beca_ , it’s Beca doing this to her, making her feel only the way Beca knows how.

She’d maybe be embarrassed about how quickly she comes, were it not for the given situation. But once Chloe reaches that natural edge, once Beca has begun to kiss her way up Chloe’s torso, chin glistening with the evidence of their impromptu tryst, Chloe finds that she is desperate to have her closer, desperate to feel Beca’s lips against her own again.

It is familiar, the taste of herself on Beca’s lips, and Chloe is still moaning, still whimpering softly as her tongue slips past the small part between them, moving gently against Beca’s. The hold she has on her is a tight one, one that says she never wants to let go, and the way Beca kisses her tells Chloe that she feels the exact same way.

It takes willpower—a _lot_ of it—for them to finally pull back, but Chloe’s arms are around Beca’s neck, her fingers tangled in the back of her hair, and Beca doesn’t even try to pull any further away. She hovers over the top of her, both of them trying to catch their breath as two sets of blue eyes scan over familiar faces.

“I made a mistake, Chloe,” Beca finally says, a sincerity to her voice, to the look in her eyes as they desperately search Chloe’s face. “I left and I shouldn’t have. Or maybe I should, but not the way I did, I shouldn’t have ended this. And you know, if I could take it back, I would. I want to.”

Chloe is still trying to come down from her high, still breathing erratically, though she nods her head as she looks up at the woman hovering over the top of her, takes in the honesty in her eyes. “So take it back,” Chloe finally says, voice sounding a little hoarse. It makes sense, given the way she’d been moaning only moments prior. “Take it back, these past nine months, take it all back. We’ll do long distance, we’ll figure something out where I can transfer out to LA with you. Just let’s be us again, Bec.”

Beca hangs onto every single word, and she doesn’t even have to think about her response. She quickly nods her head in agreement, and Chloe knows that she’s serious. They both are; this is the way they’re supposed to be, they both know it.

“Okay,” Beca agrees, “Okay, I take it back. I want to be with you, Chloe. I never stopped wanting to be with you.” Beca licks over her lips, managing to hold eye contact, and Chloe so desperately wants to pull her back in, but she can’t. The need for definite, verbal confirmation is stronger, the need for a promise that this nightmare they’ve been living for the past nine months can finally be over. “We’ll make it work.”

A part of Chloe wonders if this is a dream—it wouldn’t be the first time she’s had it, after all—but she can see Beca above her, she can _feel_ her on top of her. And like Beca had said, they’re going to figure this out. Chloe knows, with one hundred percent certainty as she stares up into the most familiar blue eyes, up at the woman who is arguably the love of her life, that they’re not broken anymore—they never were. They’re forever, just like they were always supposed to be, and as Beca repeats the words, confirms everything Chloe has so desperately wanted to hear, Chloe knows that she believes her.

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow, I now have a whole [tumblr tag](http://chloebeale.tumblr.com/tagged/we'll%20stop%20the%20clock%20together) dedicated to this universe.


End file.
